The Big Apple
by Arlynn62532
Summary: After being beaten and bruised yet another time by her boyfriend Sebastian, Clary decides to leave her home in Europe and move to New York to pursue her art. When her new friend, Simon's girlfriend sets Clary and her brother Jace on a double date, Clary and Jace loathe each other. But what happens when Clary disappears and Jace is the only one who knows where she is? All Human/AU
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror after quickly getting dressed. My lip was bloody and my cheekbone was turning an ugly mustard colour. The rest of the bruises were hidden from sight.

"Clary, baby I'm sorry." Sebastian entered the bathroom and wrapped his arms around me. He kissed my shoulder, and I shuddered in disgust. I didn't want to be with Sebastian anymore. He was abusive, and I wanted out.

Our relationship had been off and on, and every time he would lure me back in with the promise that it would be better this time, and "that he would never hurt me." As my eyes wandered around my body, and the bruises and cuts were evident on my pale skin, all I could think was: _Bullshit. _I was completely done with Sebastian.

If only he'd let me go…

"It's okay," I lied, prying out of his muscled arms. "But Sebastian…" I hesitated, wondering how he would take this. We had been on again for a couple months again, and that was as much as I could take. "I think we should see other people." I backed away slowly towards the front door. As soon as I neared it, I grabbed the knob and stood there.

"See… other people?" he repeated, not fully comprehending my break-up. You would think he would know what one sounded like after being broken up with multiple times.

"It's been fun, Seb," I lied again. Nothing about our relationship was fun. We didn't go on dates. All we did was watch movies at his apartment, and we didn't make it to the credits about 100% of the time. All I was was a punching bag and a sex toy. That's all I was to Sebastian, even though he used to be so much more to me. But that died a long time ago. "I'm leaving, and I hope you never see me again." _And vice versa, _I add silently. I pause when I open the door, then look back to him. "Goodbye Sebastian."

I hurry to the front of his apartment building, flying down the staircases. I can hear heavy footsteps above me. I can tell that they're also going much faster.

"Taxi! Taxi!" I fight to keep from screaming for it. One that I think is going to stop for me whizzes right by. _Shit shit shit…._ I chant in my head.

"Clary!"

_Fuck. _

"Taxi!" I stick my hand out past the sidewalk, trying to hail a cab.

Sebastian grabs my wrist, forcing me to turn back to him. I refuse to look him in the eye. I don't care how hard he's breaking, he's broken me a thousand times harder.

And just my luck, a taxi pulls up right in front of me. _Thank the Angel! _I cry out mentally. I rip my wrist from Sebastian's grasp and bound towards the cab before it changes its mind and drives away. Sebastian stands there on the sidewalk as I throw open the door and climb in. He runs to the window and starts banging on it. I take a deep breath and look at his charcoal eyes. But in them, is nothing. No emotion. But his face is contorted with rage and he's baring his teeth. I scoot farther away from him.

"Go!" I tell the driver. "Go!"

"Where to, miss?" he asks, looking at me questioningly in the rearview mirror. I don't know if because he wants my address or because of Sebastian banging on the window.

Nevertheless, I tell him, leaving Sebastian alone on the curb, staring after me.

_Good riddance. _


	2. Chapter 1

_Thanks to everyone who followed, reviewed and favourited! I love you all!_

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Mom, Dad, I'm leaving," I announced as I burst through the front door of our house.

They stared at me for a few seconds before they both asked at the same time, "Why?"

"Do I need a reason?" I answered their question with a question. I continued on to my room to pack. They followed me up the stairs to watch me as I threw my clothes into a luggage I had stored under my bed for exactly this reason. "I just need to get away. I want to explore and have enough space to do my art." I looked pointedly at my mom, and understanding bloomed in her eyes. She was an artist too, she must have felt a need for a change of scenery at some point in her life.

"Valentine, sweetie," my mom touched his arm lightly. "If she wants to pursue her art, then so be it. Every great artist must travel the world." I looked over at her and took a break from packing at that. My mom and Valentine had been travelling the world before Jonathan, my brother, was born. And then, when we were both old enough, we began to travel again. Long enough to pick up the language and make friends, but never enough time to actually _live _for once. We had been in London for about four years now, after my begging for me to stay to finish University. Now I was 22 and was ready to live on my own. _Without Sebastian._ She picked up my art paints and pencils before saying, "We'll send these to you when you call us and have a definite address."

"I already have one. It's on Alphabet Street in New York. I'm going to have roommates. All I need to do is tell them that I'm coming today." I quickly gave the room a once-over to check that I hadn't missed anything. Nope, I was good. I zipped the luggage closed and stuffed my sketchpad and manga's into my purse to serve as a carry on. This would hopefully be enough to keep me entertained for the 7 hour non-stop flight.

"So soon?" my dad asked carefully.

"Yes," I answered immediately. "I need to go."

And so I did. I booked the next available flight that had a single seat and rushed to the airport. I checked my luggage in and whizzed through security. When I was speed-walking through the airport to catch the plane I heard an announcement over the PA system.

"Clarissa Morgenstern, please come to gate 52," the nasally voice said. "Clarissa Morgenstern, gate 52."

And that was when I started running. I had to slide to a stop in front of the gate and wave to the clerk at the desk before they noticed me. They smiled at me, checked my passport, and sent me through.

As I waded my way through the thin aisle in the plane, everyone who was already in their seats was giving me the stink eye. They were probably thinking, _this is the girl that's been holding us up. This trip is already longer than it needs to be. _

Oh well, they could suck it up.

* * *

The flight was a good one. No bumps or any need for the drop-down oxygen masks. I had never needed to use one throughout my family's travels and I didn't plan on using one now. All I really did was sketch the rolling clouds we were above and read some manga, occasionally just listening to music whenever my eyes or my hand got too tired to do any more work.

And out of that 7 hours, I think I slept about five minutes. Which meant I was extremely exhausted when I stumbled out of the airplane. I followed everyone else until they started to disperse and run to people that they knew. I looked around and saw a sign that said MORGENSTERN in tiny, all caps handwriting. There couldn't be any other Morgenstern's on that plane, could there? I didn't think so, so I walked over there.

"Clarissa?" a man asked. He couldn't be older than 25, I guessed. He had short brown hair and glasses. This was probably mean of me, but I categorized him with the nerd group.

"That's me. You can call me Clary, though. You must be… Jordan?" I asked.

"Simon," he amended. "You were close though, there's only two of us, so… good job."

"Well _Simon, _it's nice to finally meet you." I stick out my hand and hike my purse up on my shoulder in all one fluid movement. Simon takes it.

"It's nice to meet you too."

After 40 minutes of waiting for my luggage and small talk, I learned that Simon was indeed a nerd (he was a professional hacker and technology whiz) and that Jordan, our other roommate, was a police officer. In the car, Simon had taken off his jacket because it was hot, which revealed a manga shirt, which provoked a long, in-depth discussion about what we thought about them and how good they were, yada yada yada.

"Home sweet home," Simon said, getting out of the car to go open up the trunk. He gave the cab driver some cash and insisted on carrying my probably overweight luggage. It was bulging out at the sides and I think a zipper was pulling apart.

He opened up the door and motioned that I should go in first. I did. I took in the surroundings, and the first thing I thought was: _It's perfect. _There was three rooms. Only one was open, so I took that as my room and entered. Another thought: _Perfect. _The room was completely empty except for a bed frame and a mattress, and an in-wall closet that had lime green curtains to close it off from the room.

Simon came in, followed by my luggage. "Do you like it?" he asked, handing my luggage to me. I propped it up on the bed and opened it. The top half sprung apart like a repelling magnet and rested on the other half of the bed.

"It's perfect," I beamed.


	3. Chapter 2

_Again, thank you all for reading this! I love to know what you guys are thinking, so drop a review if you want! _

_I don't own the Mortal Instruments characters, just the plot of this fanfic!_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

"You look horrible," Simon said suddenly, scrutinizing my face.

"Why thank you," I said sarcastically, turning back to my luggage.

"No, seriously Clarissa—"

"Clary," I corrected automatically.

"Seriously _Clary_, your lip looks red and your cheek is turning purple. Was the plane ride _that_ bumpy?"

"Oh!" I quickly turned away from him and mouthed curse words at the wall. He saw the remnants of Sebastian's beating. It must have become more prominent over the flight. Dammit dammit dammit! "It's nothing." I assured him.

"It doesn't look like nothing." Simon pressed. _God dammit, Simon! I don't want to be mean to you. I just met you! _

"Really, it's okay. I just… bruise easily. Pale skin and all," I laughed a little, hoping he would join in. He didn't.

"I know what beatings look like, Clary. Do you know how many pictures Jordan has had to look through that I had the misfortune to stumble across? It was gruesome." He said matter-of-factly.

I turned around slightly and looked at him through my bangs. Have I lost the war? _Not yet. Deny, deny, deny. This is a fresh start. I don't want people feeling sorry for me. _

"I don't know what you're talking about," I laughed slightly, inching past him to my en-suite bathroom. It was tiny and has a corner shower, a toilet, and a pedestal sink. There was a cabinet on top of the sink that had a mirror. When I opened it, it was empty.

"We thought that with you being a girl and all that you would be most comfortable with your own bathroom." Simon appeared at the doorway, sounding defeated.

"Thank you," I looked over my shoulder at him and he nods his head respectfully.

Simon is about to open his mouth and say something when a call comes from the main room. "Honey, I'm home!" a man called in a high pitched girly voice. I laugh a little and Simon rolls his eyes. He gestures for me to come out with him, so I do.

"Hey Jordan, we've got a roommate," Simon said, presenting me to very _handsome _man, probably around the same age Simon was. He had what looked like another language tattooed on his muscular arms.

"Hey, Clarissa, right? You've had your eye on this place for a while haven't you? We reserved it just for you," he said with no hint of embarrassment from his earlier escapade.

"Clary," Simon and I corrected at the same time. I looked over at him and smiled. He was learning.

"Okay then, _Clary_." Jordan turns to Simon. "Have you offered our new roommate a beverage?"

Simon immediately turns to me and asks if I want anything. "No thanks, I just want to sleep." I turn to leave, but think of something to say. "But first," I said while turning back to them. Jordan and Simon both freeze. "Nobody touches my sketchbook. Or my art supplies once they get here." I add quickly.

"Okay. Two can play this game. Nobody touches my computers." Simon motioned into his opened room. I look through his door, just enough to make out a _cocoon _of computers stretching around a beat-up computer chair. There are indentations on the plastic sheet beneath it, indicating that he must spend a lot of time in there. And it would make sense if he does. I mean, it's his job, right?

"Okay, fine. If I can't touch _your_ sketchpad, or _your_ computers, then you guys can't touch my gun. Ha ha." Jordan smirks and motions to his holster, which sure enough has a nice looking gun sitting there. I don't feel any desire to use it as of right now, but it might come in handy one day…

"Fine by me. I don't feel like going to jail anytime soon." Simon puts his hands up as if in surrender and backs away into his nerd cave.

"Goodnight," I said to Jordan before turning back around.

"Night." He replied.

* * *

Could it be possible that the sun shone brighter in New York than in London? You would think that it would be drowned out, with the smog and everything, but the sun poked through the low hanging clouds this morning, practically begging for me to draw it. Thank God I had at least packed my sketchbook. My other paints and canvasses should be arriving soon. I gave my parents the address before I left, so it should be on its way.

I quickly got dressed and patted on concealer and foundation to cover up the growing bruise and my black eye. I didn't want to miss the perfect light that the sun was emitting. In 30 minutes, tops, it would be gone.

I scribbled a note down saying: _I've got out to draw in the park. Should be back soon. If you need anything, here's my cell number. _I scribbled out the number, stuffed my sketchbook into my purse, grabbed my – rather shitty – coloured pencils (my good ones were being sent), and ran out the door.

I arrived at Central Park in 10 minutes. It was a breathless journey, but I conquered it. I collapsed on the benches and propped my sketchpad against my crossed leg.

Pink here, blue there, orange here, a little yellow there, fill in the white spaces, blend it with a finger, blow on it to get rid of pencil lead, and _voila! _a New York sunrise was captured on paper. I sat there for a moment, sitting in the glow of the retreating orange light that was given off only in sunrises and sunsets. I must have been in here for at least 20 minutes. Maybe even 30.

_BBBRRRZZZTTT BBRRZZTTT_. I fumbled in my jacket pocket for my phone to see that I had one new message.

_Wanna meet Izzy and me at Taki's for breakfast? Izzy's craving grease. –Simon _

I set that number as Simon's contact before replying with _Sure. Address?_

He gave it to me and off I went.

"Hi," Simon greeted as I slid into the booth with him. Across from him was a stunning woman with striking features. Her dark hair was pulled up into a slick straight ponytail and her eyes were a mud colour. She was beautiful. I thought for a split second _why_ she would be dating Simon, but I quickly shook it off. "This is Isabelle," He introduced.

"Hi. It's nice to meet you," I shook her hand, which was adorned with multiple rings.

"You too," she said, sitting back against the booth with a smile.

Just then, a blonde waitress came up to our table, popped her bubble gum, and asked, "What can I get for you?" Her name tag said _Kaelie. _

"I'll have a hamburger with fries," Izzy said immediately. The waitress gave her a '_you really want a hamburger at 8 o'clock in the morning?' _look but still wrote down her order. Izzy seemed to take no notice.

"I'll have the coconut pancakes," he said to Kaelie, then turning to me, he said, "they're really good. You should try them."

And so I ordered the coconut pancakes too, plus an apple juice. Kaelie took our menus away and left us in a semi-awkward silence.

"So you're new here, right Clary?" Isabelle asked after a while.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Where are you from?" she asked again.

"London, England."

"Shouldn't you have a British accent then?" Simon interrupted.

"We travelled a lot," I gave as an explanation. Simon nodded in understanding.

Isabelle gave Simon a sideways glance, annoyed at being cut off. "Anyways, would you consider yourself… oh, I don't know… lonely?"

"Lonely?" I gave her a look that hopefully asked if she was insane.

"Well, because I have a brother, Jace. And you guys would look cute together. Do you want to go on a double date with us?"

I continued to stare at her as Simon became more aware at what was happening. "I don't really think that Clary would want—"

"Oh pish posh," Izzy said with a wave of her hand, cutting Simon off. "You would love to go on a date with Jace, wouldn't you?" She bombarded me with an intense stare. _Um, I don't really have that much experience with guys, _I wanted to tell her. But that wasn't true. I had plenty of experience, just bad experience. I didn't want to be sucked into a mindless relationship once again.

I opened my mouth to tell her just that when Kaelie decided that right then was the opportune moment for her to give us our food. "Here you go," she said in a fake nice voice and walked off.

Simon poured syrup on his pancakes and handed it to me.

"Perfect then," Isabelle said suddenly. "It's a date."

My pancakes were swimming in a pool of syrup after that.


	4. Chapter 3

_Hey guys! Thank you again for all the followers and favourites and reviews! It makes my day._

_Also, I just want to let you know that I have a huge ass project due in the upcoming week so there is a big chance there won't be another chapter up until early November. Thank you to all of you again!_

_Also, the date with Jace is next chapter, so if any of you want anything specific in there, don't hesitate to PM me or drop a review! Now on with the story!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instrument characters, and neither do I own a bag with Jace's abs on it :( _

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Ugh. Just ugh. That's all I'm feeling right now. I don't want to do anything. I don't even want to sleep. Like, how messed up is my brain right now?

I had googled 'Jace Herondale' as soon as I had gotten home and reached my laptop. And guess what greeted me? _A fucking model. _You know, the ones on the sides of bags that only have their very defined abs and no all I knew about this boy was that he was very self-confident, and I didn't need to know anyone like that.

Jace Herondale was as famous as a Victoria's Secret Angel here in New York. And I had a date with him. This is not what I agreed to. In fact, I had agreed to nothing at all. Which brought me back to glaring at Simon at the dinner table.

Apparently the boys were very adamant about eating together when everyone was home, so I had been sucked into dinner and chatting mindlessly about nothing. I was pushing around my now-cold rice before I realized that Jordan was staring at me.

I blinked at him. "What?"

"You're staring at Simon. Why?"

I glared at Simon some more and he cowered back. It was weird, my relationship with Simon; it felt as if I had known him forever, I was so comfortable with him.

"I'm staring at Simon because it's the only way I can release my anger at the moment." I replied, stabbing my rice. Simon flinched.

"Again… _why?_" Jordan asked impatiently.

"Simon's wonderful girlfriend Isabelle just sucked me into a date with her brother."

Jordan gave a sideways glance to Simon. Simon let out an exasperated sigh and said, "the not gay one, obviously!"

Jordan nodded, pleased. I gave them a look; they were like an old married couple.

"Jace Herondale… hmmmm…" Jordan looked thoughtful as he sat back in his chair, done with his meal. "Girls would kill to get a date with him."

"Not this girl," I said indignantly. "I don't want anything to do with him." But then I realized something and turned to Simon. "If Jace is as skilled at getting a date like Jordan says he is, then why is Izzy setting me up with him?"

Simon sighed again. I briefly wonder how many times he's said this. "Izzy keeps on insisting that Jace should find "the one" so he doesn't spend his whole life in one-night stands." Simon put air quotes around "the one".

"So she thinks that I'm "the one"?" I asked incredulously.

Simon shrugged and put his hands up in a surrender gesture. "She does this on the streets, pointing out girls, saying, "Oh, that one would be perfect," and things like that. I have no control over this! You were probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time and you won a date with Jace!"

I sat back against my chair and crossed my arms with an ugly sound.

"Hey, look on the bright side, Clary." Jordan said comfortingly.

"What bright side?" I snorted.

"At least you know he won't be a pile of mush. At least you'll have his wonderfully defined abs to run your hands over when you finally declare your love for each other."

I gave Jordan another look. "Are you secretly in the closet or something?" I asked.

"What?" he squeaked.

I laughed at his reaction. "Nothing, nothing."

We sat in a comfortable silence until the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" I piped up and ran to the door. Simon and Jordan trailed after me anyway. I swung open the door and a man with box upon box in front of him is standing in the doorway.

"You Clary Morgenstern?" he asked from behind the mountain of taped boxes

"Morgenstern…" I could hear the wheels turning in Simon's brain and I wanted to correct the UPS delivery man, but in those boxes are probably my art supplies, and I couldn't send those away.

"Yeah." I signed where he told me to on his clipboard and I lugged in the boxes. Jordan and Simon both helped me carry the boxes into my room.

Simon turned back to me with his mouth open just as he is about to leave, and I dreaded what was going to come out. But then he turned back around and left like nothing happened. _Thank you, Simon. _

I spent the next two and a half hours setting up my canvasses and my easel in the corner of my room by the window. I laid down a tarp underneath so the paint wouldn't stain the carpet if it dropped and lined up my canvasses along the bottom of the wall.

I finally collapsed across my bed and curled up into a ball, not bothering to change my clothes to sleep. I was exhausted and pissed and I feel asleep with one unfortunate thought in my brain.

_My date with Jace is tomorrow._

_Kill me now._


	5. Chapter 4

_I handed in my LA project today so I was able to put in the finishing touches and update. Enjoooy xx_

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments series, but I do have unruly red hair and man is it annoying._

* * *

**Chapter Four**

I stood with crossed arms, glaring at myself in the bathroom mirror. Isabelle was behind me, straightening my very curly red hair. I had told her it was useless, but she dismissed me with a wave of her hand and said, "Nothing is impossible when I do it."

I was skeptical at first, but she actually seemed to be doing it. I was… dare I say it… impressed. After she was done, she loaded on the fruity smelling hairspray and combed my hair. It was the first time that I could remember that the hairbrush hadn't been stopped on a knot. Cue the gasp.

Simon had told Isabelle that I wasn't going to try for this date in hopes that Jace wold forget me and go on with his business. So that prompted Isabelle to come and dress me for this date. She had chosen skin-tight jeans from my closet, a white tank-top, and a cropped jacket.

"Do you know how to skate?" Isabelle asked suddenly.

"A little. I took lessons when I was little." I replied. "Why?"

"We're going skating."

"For the date?!" I cried. "Isabelle!"

"Oh, calm down, Clary, public skating times are only for a few hours. You'll be fine."

"But… but…" I spluttered.

Isabelle grabbed my arm and led me out to the living area. Simon looked up and readjusted his glasses.

"Well, its quarter after six, do you want to go?" he offered.

"Yeah, sure," Isabelle agreed. She pulled me to the door. "Don't worry, Clary. You'll love Jace."

* * *

I most certainly didn't love Jace. I could tell from the moment I laid eyes on him.

He had worn low-hanging jeans that looked amazing on him, and a long sleeved black shirt with a v-neck. His hair was in a perfect disarray around his chiseled face and the first thing that popped into my head was: _I really want to draw him. _

I shook my head as if to shake the thought out of my brain. _Get a grip, Clary. _

"Hello," he said seductively as he approached me. Izzy and Simon were renting skates on the other side of the room. I was trapped. "I assume you're the Clary Izzy keeps on blathering about?"

"Unless she knows another Clary, I guess not," I said in a fake sad voice that I hoped would send the message that I didn't want to be here.

But Jace didn't take the hint. "Well, I'm glad she set us up together. You look like a fallen angel," he smirked, which made my breath catch in my throat. The effect he had on me was disgusting.

"Um," I looked everywhere but him, but I could still feel his stare on me, which made me want to scratch my skin until it fell off.

"You sort of have an accent. Where's it from?"

"England." I had made a resolve to not speak in full sentences for the rest of the time he was talking to me in hopes that he would get my not-so-subtle hint.

"England, eh? Did you know that one of my ancestors lived there?"

"I do now."

Jace rocked back on his heels and looked at me, wearing a confused expression. _Wondering why I'm not trying to get into your pants, Goldie? _I thought coldly.

"So how do you have an accent? Did you move here?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Hey Jace!" Izzy came up and gave a quick hug to Jace before retracting back to Simon's side again. "Did you guys get your skates already?"

"I need to get some," I said.

"Okay, come on, Clary. Let's go." Jace grabbed my hand and led me to the rental booth. As soon as we reached it, I wedged my hand out of his grasp. Jace looked at me as if he were going to say something, but turned back to the short man behind the counter.

"Size 7, please." He told the man.

"How do you know my shoe size?" I asked.

"I guessed," he winked.

"Ugh," I muttered under my breath. _Not one of _these _guys. _

Jace handed me the white skates. "Here you go."

"What about you?" I asked, taking the skates and sitting down on one of the available benches.

"I brought my own. I play hockey in my spare time."

"_Fantastic," _I mumbled.

"Here," Jace took the skate I was about to put on and rested my foot on his knees. "Let me do it."

And so I did. There was really no point in refusing. But then Jace's hand started trickling up my calf. I kicked my foot straight forward, which was unfortunately for him, his groin. _Whoopsie. _Jace let out a low groan, but didn't fall off the bench or anything.

After he was done, I waited silently for him to put his black hockey skates on before we walked out onto the ice.

"You can hold on to me if you want," he whispered huskily, holding out his arms. He had gotten on the ice first and turned around to face me.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I retorted, side-stepping his out-stretched arms and skating out onto the open ice. I skated fast away from him, but he caught up.

"You're not like other girls, are you?" asked Jace, casually matching my strides across the ice.

"Well, we would have to put all the girls you're familiar with into consideration, but considering your type—"

"_My type?" _Jace asked incredulously. "You don't even know me, Clary."

"I know you enough to dislike you immensely." Screw one-word answers. I was done with that.

"Bullshit," he growled.

Uncomfortable silence fell between us, but neither skated away from each other. I guess we both decided it wouldn't be very date-like to ditch one another. Plus I kept on looking at Isabelle across the ice, and she was glaring at me, gesturing crazily at me. I shrugged at her, but decided I might as well try to be nice, but that would probably prove to be easier said than done.

**Jace POV**

Clary was seriously pissing me off. This little red-head just came up to me and started dissing me. She didn't know anything about me.

And all I could think about was how I _didn't _want her to hate me. She seemed… different than all the other blind dates that Isabelle had set me up with. All the other girls hung off of me and barely had minds of their own. All they really cared about was my modeling career. Clary was somehow different.

"So… England huh?" I said, breaking the silence. "Why'd you move here?"

Clary looked away from me and was silent. "Um…" she said quietly. "I wanted to?" It sounds like a question, the way she says it. Is she not telling me why she wanted to move here? I vow to figure it out before the date ends.

"New York has a certain appeal, I guess. Any reason why you chose here?" I asked again.

"I'm an artist. New York seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Are you regretting it or something?"

Clary gave me a sideways glance, as if evaluating me. "Well, there's this one guy that is just really full of himself and can't take a hint…" she smirked.

"Simon?" I asked, incredulous. I glanced over my shoulder at him and had to supress a grin. Isabelle was practically holding him up. "I didn't think he was that bad." I smirked back at her.

As a result, Clary pushed me away from her, probably hoping I would fall over. I was used to body chucks from my hockey team, so I stayed on my feet. I skated back to her.

"I'm not that bad, am I?" I asked, serious now.

"Depends on who you ask," she replied. "I'm sure Isabelle loves you for who you are, asshole or not. And this gay brother of yours I heard about probably likes you too. But for someone who just met you and had no intention of getting a date really isn't all that impressed with you right now." After a moment, she added, "plus those girls over there keep on staring at you. It's pretty annoying." She nods her head to two girls holding each other in the middle of the rink. It doesn't look like they know how to skate. They're a little wobbly.

"Well of course they're looking at me. I'm incredibly attractive."

"Don't forget modest," Clary added with a laugh. She had a beautiful laugh. I decided that I liked making her laugh.

After skating around in silence for a while, I asked about why she moved here again.

"I just did." She answered immediately. "Can't you just drop it?" she asked sharply.

"Sorry," I mumbled. Why was she being so secretive? When you hide things, it just makes you want to know more. This was driving me insane.

"No, I'm sorry. It's just a sore subject. I don't want to talk about it," she said without looking at me.

Well, that was a nice start, wasn't it? I continued skating, but Clary stopped for some reason, staring off into the distance. I skated back to her.

"Are you all right?"

No reply.

"Clary?" I waved a hand in front of her face but she seemed in a trance. Was her face paling? Was that even possible? "Clary?"

She snapped out of it, her green eyes flitting back to mine in an instant. "What?"

"Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She glanced back at the spot where she was staring at. I looked over my shoulder to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing there. Just benches.

"Nope," she smiled. "I'm okay." She began skating again.

Well... that was weird.


	6. Chapter 5

_Hello again! _

_So I've decided that my update day will now be Monday. I can work on it throughout the week and then check it over on the weekend, then post! _

_Again, thanks to all of you followers and favouriters and reviewers :) I love you! xx_

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instrument series, all rights belong to the ever fabulous Cassandra Clare._

* * *

**Chapter Five**

A week had passed since my date with Jace. It was… okay. I definitely wasn't his biggest fan in the beginning but he grew on me. He seemed like an okay person once he got over himself.

The end of the date didn't go as smoothly. I was pretty shaken up and wasn't very into conversation as much as I should've. I couldn't even think straight after I saw _him. _

I didn't know what the hell was going on. I stopped in my tracks and stared at him. He looked beautiful, his white-blonde hair was sticking slightly to his forehead and his hands were tucked neatly into his jean pockets. But his face was anything but handsome. It was contorted in pain, his mouth a scrunched up line. He seemed to be shaking. At the time, I had thought it was because of the ice in the rink, but looking back on it, it now made more sense as if he were shaking in _anger. _Jace had brought me back to reality. I quickly glanced back at Sebastian and he was gone.

But I still didn't understand whether it was my messed up imagination, or if he was actually standing off to the sidelines, watching mine and Jace's date. The thought made me shudder. No way he had actually _followed_ me here, right?

Needless to say, I couldn't think straight after that encounter.

I had agreed to another date, too. Thinking about it now makes me wonder if I was _that_ out of it, to agree to another date with Jace. I wanted to call and cancel, but, Simon, being the little rat that he is, told Izzy again. She hid my phone and I couldn't find it for three days. She finally gave it back to me, saying that if I tried something with Jace I would die a thousand painful deaths. If anyone else had told me that, I would've laughed in their face. But the gleam in her eye and the way her mouth was set made me think better of it and take her seriously. Simon commended my smart decision.

"I really didn't want to help Izzy bury your body," he had told me seriously. I had raised my eyebrows at him, asking if he was actually being serious. He had nodded gravely and said, "You wouldn't believe the lies I've told to Jordan to get him off her trail."

That had effectively shut me up for the week. The date was set for a week from today, a Friday. It was making me jittery.

"Stop bouncing your leg, Clary," Jordan scolded now, giving me the stink eye. He was holding his plate off the table and I noticed Simon's cutlery was clattering about. I kept on forgetting that it was noticeable that my leg was bouncing here, the table at home was much higher and sturdier.

"Sorry," I mumbled, ceasing my leg movements. But I couldn't sit still. I started bouncing it again. Jordan glared at me. I stopped again and tucked my feet underneath the chair.

"So what are you guys doing tonight?" Jordan asked.

I stayed quiet, so Simon answered first. "Izzy and I are going to Pandemonium tonight."

I glanced at Jordan. He was scowling a bit. _Jealous, maybe?_

"Cool," he said, forcing a smile. "What about you?" he turned to me.

"Oh, um," I looked down at my fork. "Probably working on some of my art. I've barely gotten one canvas done."

Jordan and Simon nodded. I had been lazy for this whole week, lounging around in my room in sweatpants and baggy shirts. I had been telling them I didn't feel good, so I kept up my image with being in bed a lot. I had actually been keeping my distance from the outdoors, petrified I would run into Sebastian once I was alone. He looked so real, and so angry, like he was going to tear me apart with his teeth.

"Are you okay?" Simon asked. "You just paled."

"What?" I looked up at his curious brown eyes. "No, I'm fine." I mustered up a smile and hoped that would do the trick. All he did was push up his glasses and sit back in his chair, crossing his legs and his arms.

"Is anyone going to ask if I'm doing anything tonight?" Jordan asked, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

"Sorry Jord, are you doing anything tonight?" Simon complied, asking Jordan the question.

"Nope," he smiled.

* * *

I was having a massive artist's block. I tried doing those exercises where you listen to music and don't look at what you're painting, all of that. And nothing. I needed to sell some of my paintings so I could freaking keep up with rent. Either that or I would have to get a job, and I do not want to get a job.

_So paint, Clary! _My mind screams at me. But all I can think about is Sebastian's cold, hard eyes and his lips pressed together so tight that they were turning white. The way his body was quaking with fury, the way he was glaring at Jace from across the ice. Everything was too vivid and clear for me to think.

I grabbed my sketchbook by reflex and began sketching. I started with Jace, his face relaxed into an easy grin. I drew the back of my red hair. I drew the background, the ice rink. Then, without thinking, I watched my hand scribble something into the background, behind the glass that circled the rink. I shaded in his clothes, all dark, and left his hair white. I twisted his mouth into a rabid growl and his eyes into bottomless pits. Before I could feel myself getting tugged into them, I slammed the book shut and tossed it onto my bed.

Now I could finally paint.


	7. Chapter 6

_Whew. I got it done. So happy :)_

_Once again, thanks to all you new followers and favouriters! I seriously love you. A lot. More than I probably should. _

_If you are obsessed with shipping as I am, go watch 'I Will Go Down With This Ship' by Danisnotonfire. _

_It's fabulous and you will not regret it! :) _

_THANK YOU AGAIN AND TO ALL MY NEW FOLLOWERS:_

_HELLO :D _

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments, but I wish I owned some CSI Miami seasons. _

_YYYYEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! _

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"I am _sooo _bored," I groaned, stretching out on the couch that Simon and I were sharing. My leg hit his thigh and he smacked it away.

"Oh, come on. Simon and I aren't that boring, are we?" Jordan asked from the single chair in the room. Simon gave me a look that said he agreed with Jordan.

"Well… no. But I want to do something instead of watching CSI reruns at 10 o'clock at night with you criticizing everything the police do!" I said, aiming a glare at Jordan.

"Hey! I'm sorry that CSI doesn't know how police actually work!"

"Ugh," I muttered.

We continued watching CSI with Jordan mumbling things under his breath and making rude gestures at the TV.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, turning towards Simon. "What was that place you and Izzy went to yesterday?"

Simon furrowed his brow, thinking back. "Oh, you mean Pandemonium?"

"Yeah!" I said. "Let's go there!"

"I don't want to," Jordan said, his eyes still glued to the TV.

"Yeah, me neither," Simon agreed. "Izzy and I went yesterday, remember? I'm pretty sure I'm still drunk."

"Well, I'm going." I announced, getting up from the couch to go and change. I was sick of staying indoors. I wanted to go and live a little. Surely, if Sebastian was indeed here, he would've given up, right? That was the story I was sticking with, because I wanted to go clubbing, and I wanted to go now.

I switched my sweatpants and hoodie in for a short, green mini dress. I shook my fiery red hair out of its bun and brushed it, quickly curling the bits that had begun to flatten out. I lined my eyes in black and put on some mascara.

"How do I look?" I asked the boys, twirling for them.

"You look nice," Simon said, readjusting his glasses.

Jordan agreed, but I could tell he was still watching CSI. _And he says he hates that show… _

"I'll be back later," I declared, grabbing a clutch from my room and dropping my wallet and house keys into it. "See you soon!" I called before shutting the door.

After taking a fifteen minute cab ride to Pandemonium, I had to wait in line for another fifteen minutes. By the time I got inside, it was a little after 11:00. But I had to say, it was definitely worth the wait.

Everywhere I looked, it was all the same. People having fun. I admit, most were drunk, but this was perfect to just let loose. I loved it.

I ordered a drink and downed it, wanting to get a little tipsy. What was the fun of dancing and grinding and laughing when you weren't a little buzzed, right?

Two drinks later, I was dancing on the dance floor, moving with the beat of a techno song. A pair of firm hands found their way to my hips, and I was still sober enough to remove them and tell the pervert to beat it. But the face that I saw was not the face I expected to see.

"Jace!" I yelled over the music. "What are you doing here?"

He smirked and looked around. "Dancing. What else?"

I hit his chest, stumbling a bit. "Well… _obviously." _

He grinned and took my hand, leading me off the dance floor. We sat at a secluded booth, a ways away from other people. He bought me another two drinks, which I sipped quickly. Dancing could work up quite an appetite!

"So what brings you to the infamous Pandemonium club?" he asked me, leaning back.

I shrugged. "I was bored. I needed something to do."

He nodded.

"What about you?" I asked.

"I already told you," said Jace with a smirk. "I wanted to dance."

"Then why aren't you dancing?" I asked with a smug satisfaction as I watch his smirk fade. Now it was his turn to shrug.

"I want to talk to you," he said, looking at his clasped hands.

Jace POV

"What about?" Clary asked. Her movements were slow and her words were sluggish. Her eyes were glassy when I looked into them. She's drunk. Maybe I can get an answer out of her while she's not in her right mind?

Okay, that sounds a little sketchy, but I really wanted to know what the heck was going on in that brain of hers.

I took a deep breath and answered, "How come you moved to New York, Clary?"

She smiled like a child on Christmas morning and leaned forward. "I'll tell you, but you can't tell Jace."

I narrowed my eyes at her. Was she really that out of it to not know that I was sitting right in front of her? "Why can't you tell Jace?" I asked.

"I don't want him to feel sorry for me," she said quietly, leaning her head back against the booth and closing her eyes. She sighed.

"Okay, I won't tell him."

"You promise?" she asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Of course." I replied.

"Well, okay." She shrugged. "It all started with Sebastian. Verlac. Sebastian Verlac."

I nearly fall out of my chair. "_THE _Sebastian Verlac? The famous son of one of the few billionares in the world which dated a…." O_ooooooohhhhh….. _

"Which dated a Morgenstern." Clary finished.

"You're a Morgenstern." I said dumbly, still staring at her in shock. How had I never thought of this before? How had I never connected the dots?

"Mmm…" she agreed, looking thoughtfully at her empty two drink glasses. "Anyways, he was sort of a douchebag to me. Abused me, all that stuff. Didn't really care for me at all, just used me as a sex toy and a punching bag. I was sick of it. Sure, he might be worth a billion dollars but who cared, when he had such a rotten personality?"

"You never fought back?" I gasped in shock. This fiery little red head did not seem like the person who would just sit back and take the punishment.

Clary laughed coldly, still staring at the empty glasses with a sort of burning hatred. "He had his ways of keeping me silent."

That shut me up effectively.

"So I moved. I liked art, and New York seemed like the place to go. But I think he—" Clary cuts herself off, snapping her head in the direction of the dance floor. "Let's dance," she exclaims suddenly, grabbing my hand and leading me away from the booth.

_But she thought he… what? Ugh, the mysteries keep on piling up with this girl. _

So we dance, moving in time with the beat. Clary keeps on inching her way closer to me, until she's grinding into me. Clary's drunk, I shouldn't take advantage of her.

"Clary," I lean down to her ear so she can hear me. She moves her head up and says, "yeah?" and then all of a sudden we're kissing. And it's a nice kiss. The voice telling me to let her go has vanished and is now telling me to pull her closer. So I oblige. She tangles her fingers into my golden hair and I press my hands to her waist to pull us impossibly closer together.

But then our lungs decide to ruin the moment and force us to pull away.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Clary groaned, putting a hand up to her mouth. She made a beeline for the nearest bathroom and heaved herself into it, and I can't see what happens next. I don't think I want to.

I wait for her for a few minutes until she comes wobbling back out.

"I think I should get you a cab," I said, putting a hand over her lower back and firmly pressing to get her to move.

"That sounds like a good idea," she agreed, clutching her purse tight to her side while I maneuvered around sweaty bodies and squinting through the blur strobe lights. Clary is full out leaning on me for support by the time I finally hail a taxi.

She gets in first and I get in, shutting the door behind me and telling the taxi driver where to take us. Clary leans her head on my shoulder, but I can tell she's not asleep. She's tracing an outline of something on her bare knee with her left hand.

"$32.50," the cabbie announces once we get to her apartment.

I hand him the money and thank him. I found Clary's house key in her clutch and lead her up the stairs. I found another key and guessed it was for the second door and thankfully it worked. Clary leaned on me the entire way to her room. I guessed that she wouldn't really like to wake up the next morning knowing someone had undressed her, so I let her collapse into her bed. She immediately curled up into a ball and fell asleep.

Hopefully she at least remembered our kiss, because, oh man, she would have a massive hangover tomorrow.


End file.
